


Light Up My Room

by crazygirlne



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Accidental Dating, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: Harry has a good life, working with Team Flash during the day and then sleeping at STAR Labs, rent-free. He especially enjoys the evenings he spends working in the lab with Caitlin.As the evenings together start getting later, it gets harder to say goodnight. It’s been so long since he’s had somebody to share a bed with, and that’s all he’s thinking about when he invites Caitlin to join him instead of going home. He’s pleasantly surprised when she accepts.They’re both adults. It’s only sleeping. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw bits and pieces of a Netflix movie and it inspired this. Expect four or five chapters, copious amounts of cuteness and/or feels, and probably a 60% chance of smut. I’ll adjust the rating appropriately if it turns into 100%.
> 
> Canon divergent. Harry stuck around and it made everything better. Sorry HR, I love you, but I think your E-2 counterpart would’ve made things much smoother.
> 
> Title from the Barenaked Ladies song.

Harry knows he’s lucky.

Jesse comes to visit regularly. Not as often as he’d like, maybe, but probably more than he should expect from his grown daughter who’s busy protecting another Earth.

He enjoys the company of his friends and coworkers (not that he has to admit that fact). Team Flash works well together. Harry’s contributions to the superhero support team make him feel as accomplished as many of his scientific achievements do.

He has access to a world-class lab. Worlds class, even; he’s been smuggling tech from Earth-2 as often as he dares make the trip.

Harry has an entire apartment in an otherwise-empty section of STAR Labs. He has improvised a bedroom, a bathroom, a living area, and a small kitchen, all connected, and amazingly, Team Flash pretty much keeps it off-limits. They’ll come get him if they need to in an emergency, but they respect his personal space when he’s there.

It’s a fact he appreciates very much, really. He wouldn’t handle it well if he never had time to himself, didn’t have a sanctuary. He treasures his section of the building and is very content with his life.

The thing is, though…

It’s very quiet at night, in his empty rooms.

It’s been a long time since he’s actually shared a bed with anyone. Maybe it’s just because on some level he’s still adjusting to Jesse’s absence, no matter that she’s been gone for various reasons for a while now, but when he gets in bed lately, there’s not a sigh of gratitude for the blessed solitude. Instead, he just feels alone.

He thinks it’s a large part of why he’s been waiting later and later each night to retreat to his rooms. The other part, of course, is Caitlin Snow.

They weren’t always close. At first, she was simply someone whose logic and intelligence he appreciated. Then she was the least annoying member of Team Flash, by far, which made her exceedingly valuable to him. He’s not sure exactly when she became a friend, though he knows it was before Barry messed with the timeline, before she developed her powers.

Like Cisco, she still seems to prefer staying at headquarters rather than participating firsthand in every confrontation, but when she does fight, she does it beautifully, with far more style than Allen or Ramon.

And like Harry, she still has a drive to experiment, to learn, to tinker. It’s not unexpected, then, that they start spending time in the lab together (the actual laboratory, that is) after the rest of Team Flash has gone home. And yes, there’s plenty of silence as they work on projects, either together or just tangentially, but it’s companionable. Just as often, they chat as they work.

Tonight is one of the latter times.

“She really said that?” Caitlin looks up from her microscope, a smile playing at her lips.

“Word for word.” Harry grins at her, remembering Jesse’s childhood antics. “She was so smart, even then.”

“You miss her.” Caitlin sounds understanding. It's not a question but a statement of fact, an expression of sympathy.

He nods, stepping away from his own lab equipment and removing his glasses. “I know she's doing well, and I know she's okay there, thriving even. But even when she was at school, she still came home. I haven't actually lived alone for this long in… a very long time.”

“You don't talk about your wife much,” Caitlin says. “Were you together long before Jesse?”

Harry nods, feeling exhaustion hit him suddenly. He walks over to the sofa and sits down. Caitlin hesitates only a moment before putting away what she's working on and joining him. He's struck with the unexpected desire to take her hand.

“I've been alone a long time, though,” he says, in explanation to her and to excuse his own silent desire. “In that regard, at least.” He pauses, looking at her. “What about you? I mean, I know you had…” He trails off, not sure whether she wants to be reminded of Zolomon right now. Or ever.

She smiles sadly and looks away, staring at a spot on the wall but clearly seeing something else in her mind. “I haven't had anyone to come home to me, or for me to go home to, since Ronnie. And in that respect, he was gone long before he was my husband.”

Harry’s quiet, waiting to see whether she’ll continue. He might not talk about his wife often, but neither does Caitlin talk about her husband.

She does continue. “It doesn’t ever really go away, does it. Missing them.” She looks at him, not waiting for an answer, but like she knows he gets it. “Not always them specifically, but little things. Someone to eat dinner with. Someone to confide in. Someone to go to sleep with every night.” She sounds wistful rather than sad, and he _does_ get it. “It’s not like I’m lonely all the time,” she says, tone lightening some. “I mean, life is good, right? The team is great, and I’m almost never lonely during the day.”

“It’s the nights,” he finishes for her, and it’s his turn to look away. He fiddles with his glasses for a moment. “They’re too quiet. The bed is too empty. There’s too much space to think.”

“Exactly.” Caitlin sighs, and then there’s a weight against Harry’s shoulder, and he turns to look as she rests her head against him. Her eyes are closed, and there’s that smile playing at her lips again.

This is one of the things he’s missed, too, he thinks. Casual contact. He hesitates for a second, thinking of all the reasons he shouldn’t (she’s a friend, a colleague, and this could make things awkward) before deciding she seems comfortable with him, and he releases a breath, relaxing and leaning his head against the top of hers. She neither tenses nor pulls away.

Neither of them speaks for a while, but it’s…

It’s more than just comfortable. He’s missed this more than he realized. He closes his eyes, only to open them immediately when he feels that tug that means he’s about to fall asleep. He lifts his head and glances at the time.

“It’s almost midnight,” he murmurs, surprised. Caitlin straightens, and Harry pushes away a pang of regret.

He should’ve just let them both fall asleep, no matter how their necks may have protested the next day.

“I should get home,” Caitlin says with a sigh, standing. “I’ve been staying here too late, but…” She shrugs one shoulder.

“There’s nothing at home,” he finishes, and she nods, lips pulling up to one side.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. A few seconds is all it takes for Harry to come up with a brilliantly bad idea. He _is_ a genius, after all. He takes a few more seconds trying to decide whether he actually wants to offer up his idea, and in those few seconds, Caitlin decides it’s time to leave.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, smiling at him once more before she turns to go.

“Stay,” he says to her back, the word escaping before he can change his mind.

“What?” She turns and looks at him curiously.

“Stay,” he repeats, jerking his head toward his rooms, “at my place.” When she doesn’t respond right away, he takes it as a good sign. After all, it’s not an immediate _no._ “It took me years to really get used to sleeping without my wife, to stop keeping to my side of the bed. I still miss it, and it sounds like you do, too, just having someone there. So I thought—” He takes a breath, taking heart from the fact that she still hasn’t turned him down and doesn’t look offended or uncomfortable. “We could help each other. Share a bed with me tonight, so we won’t be alone. It doesn’t have to be anything more.”

Her head tilts ever-so-slightly to one side. “Are you sure?”

Harry nods once, sharp. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” It’s true. He might not have thought about it for long, not consciously, but it feels right. He doesn’t regret putting it out there as an option.

“Alright,” she says, and he can’t quite help the smile that tugs at his lips in response.

“Come on then,” he says, putting his glasses on and starting toward his rooms, determined to act like nothing unusual is going on. “It’s late and we should sleep.”

He hears her chuckle as she follows behind him, and they reach his door shortly after. Once they’re inside his living room/kitchen combo area, though, with the door shut behind them, he rubs the back of his neck before gesturing up and down at Caitlin. He is most definitely not blushing as he does it.

“I don’t, ah…” He takes a breath while she clearly tries not to laugh at him. “I’m guessing it’s not comfortable trying to sleep in a dress like that.”

She looks down at herself like she’s forgotten what she’s wearing, then looks back at him. “No, it’s really not.”

“I can…” He’s the one who came up with this, so why is he suddenly uncertain where the lines are? “If you need a t-shirt or something…”

“I keep a pair of clean gym clothes here, just in case,” she says. She’s definitely laughing at him, but at least she’s doing it on the inside. “I never use them. They’re comfortable enough for sleep.”

“That sounds good.” He’s more relieved than he should be, maybe, that she won’t be wearing just one of his t-shirts. For some reason, he thinks the image would be hard to shake.

“I’ll go change,” she says, nodding toward the door, “and then I’ll be back.”

He nods. “I’ll get changed, too. Then meet you back in the bedroom?” He glances at his closed bedroom door, feeling a little awkward, finally, about this whole proposal. He thinks it’ll be worth it, though. He really does.

“See you in a few minutes, Harry.” Caitlin slips back out of the room and closes the door quietly behind her. Harry stares at it for a moment before shaking himself out of wherever his mind is trying to go. He grabs his pajamas, then thinks about it before retreating to the bathroom instead of changing in the bedroom like he normally would.

Once he’s changed, he brushes his teeth, going about his routine like he would any other night. Only, tonight, he’s not going to have to go to bed alone.

Yes, this will definitely be worth it.

He washes his face, then catches his own eyes in the mirror. He looks hopeful, far more optimistic than he typically lets himself feel.

It’s a dangerous game, maybe. He doesn’t think this will ruin their friendship, not even if it does end up feeling awkward. Worst case, he’s looking at a sleepless night, too uncomfortable to fall asleep, but he really doesn’t think that’ll be the case.

No, he decides, worst case, realistically, is that Ramon catches them and they never hear the end of it. And that…

Okay, that could actually be pretty close to a nightmare situation, but Cisco comes to his apartment so rarely that it’s not statistically likely to be a problem. Still, he makes a mental note to be certain Caitlin doesn’t plan to tell her friend, and another note to make sure the cameras to and from his apartment are still disabled.

So yes. He’s optimistic. He blinks at himself as he hears his main door open, and Caitlin says his name questioningly.

“Be right out,” he calls. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Harry knows he’s lucky. He has friends, and he has mostly competent coworkers. They don’t even drive him half as crazy as he pretends, and he can ignore the fact that his friends and his coworkers are the same set of people.

And he also has Caitlin, who’s willing to share a bed with him just so they won’t be alone, who he can hear right now, getting into bed.

Getting into _his_ bed.

He takes a deliberate, deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and releases it.

“Time for bed,” he tells himself, then turns and opens the door to join Caitlin.

It’s only sleeping. It’s not complicated, and nothing’s going to go wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Harry share a bed. It’s only platonic. Really. And that’s why they’re keeping it a secret.

Harry likes to pride himself on decent emotional control. It’s not that he doesn’t feel emotions, it’s just that he doesn’t let them control him or overwhelm him.

At least, not usually. There are always exceptions, most of them to do with Jesse.

He’s not expecting, then, for the sight of Caitlin in his bed to bring him to a complete stop for a full two seconds. He can’t blame surprise; he knew she’d be there. But seeing her there, seeing one of the people he’s closest to waiting in his bed, waiting for Harry to join her…

It’s a lot, more than he thought it would be.

He recovers before she notices, he’s pretty sure. He hesitates with his hand above the light switch, waiting for her nod before he turns it off. He joins her, navigating the room easily by memory, and slips under the covers. It’s a big bed, so they aren’t touching, and other than her even (if a little fast) breaths, there’s no indication she’s even there. Harry opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, unsure what he was going to say.

Caitlin is the one who breaks the silence. “I might snore.”

“Hmm?” Harry heard her, but it wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I mean,” she continues, “I don’t think I do. I didn’t, at least according to Ronnie, but it’s been a long time. And I’ve changed. Not just, you know, personality wise, but physically, what with the ice powers and all.” She closes her mouth audibly, as if trying to force herself to stop her fast-paced talking.

“I don’t care if you snore, Caitlin.” He hopes she can hear both smile and sincerity in his voice.

“Good.” She falls quiet again.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Harry says, abruptly remembering his concern. “Especially Cisco. Please, please do not tell Ramon that I was lonely and asked you to come to bed with me.”

“We’d never hear the end of it,” she says, laughter in her voice. “It’s in _my_ best interest not to say anything either, you know. I accepted for the same reason you asked.” She pauses. “I don’t think he’d tease us though, honestly. He’d probably offer to join us, instead, just to make extra sure we know we’re not alone.”

Harry huffs as he pictures it. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m afraid of. _Now._ Thank you for that lovely image.”

“You’re welcome,” she says lightly. It’s silent for about thirty seconds before she speaks again. “I was thinking about the samples we were studying earlier…”

She talks for several minutes about theories and findings, all things they’ve already gone over before, as recently as that very night. By this point, whatever brought him to a halt when he saw Caitlin has faded, to be replaced by exhaustion and some particular brand of fondness he doesn’t feel the need to look at closely. He doesn’t want to ignore Caitlin, though, and he is actually listening, so he hums his agreement (or disagreement) at the appropriate points.

At least, until she shifts topics entirely and switches to musing about carbon-based lifeforms and theoretical alternatives, and it’s something he’d normally love to debate, but he’s pretty sure it’s after midnight, and her words are definitely starting to slur.

Still, he thinks he’s smiling again when he interrupts. “I'm happy to talk all night, Caitlin, but it's okay to sleep, too.”

Caitlin exhales, loudly enough for him to hear. “Okay. Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Snow.”

He shifts, without any real intent, just trying to get comfortable, and he briefly wishes they’d taken a moment to establish boundaries, but he’s too tired to form the words. Somehow, he ends up taking her hand (or maybe she takes his and that’s why he can’t remember doing it), and then he’s asleep, his last waking thoughts just wordless contentment.

***

Harry’s first thoughts upon waking are basically all centered around how rested he feels. A glance at his phone says that his alarm will go off in three minutes, and that’s after falling asleep later than usual, so he knows his refreshment doesn’t stem from quantity of sleep.

It’s everything to do with the quality.

He turns his head and finds that, like him, Caitlin has gravitated toward her edge of the bed in her sleep. They’re not touching anymore (if they ever were; now that it’s morning, he’s not convinced it wasn’t a dream), but she’s facing toward him, still asleep.

There’s that feeling again, the one from last night when he first saw her. With his mind not yet fully awake but no longer exhausted, he’s able to identify it more easily as a mix of affection and appreciation. He’s still a little surprised at the intensity, but he has absolutely no regrets about the night together.

Harry looks away before he crosses into creepy staring territory, and he takes a deep breath, trying to find his equilibrium.

Which is, of course, when his alarm goes off.

He nearly knocks the phone to the floor in his haste to silence it, and by the time he looks back in Caitlin’s direction, she’s blinking sleepily at him, looking far more amused than anyone half-asleep should be capable of.

“Good morning,” he says, setting the phone down. “Did you sleep okay?”

It matters because she’s a friend, and he doesn’t want her to have suffered for his benefit.

Caitlin stretches before nodding. “I don’t think I’ve slept so well in years. Thank you, Harry.”

It’s surprisingly not awkward as they get out of bed and separate to prepare for their days on Team Flash, and it’s not until he’s in the shower, water cascading over him and steam clouding his field of view, that he lets himself wonder whether either of them will sleep that well again, and if so, when it will be.

***

It happens about once a week, for a while. They don’t really talk about it. They don’t have to; when they’re both lingering in the lab later than they really should, they retreat to Harry’s rooms. It works fine, and if Harry doesn’t sleep as well when she’s not there…

It’s not like he has any justification for asking her to sleep over every night, not really. The nights together are enough to make up for the rest, enough to make him feel less tired, less cranky. He still has to _pretend_ to be cranky, though, or else Cisco watches him suspiciously.

He’s getting ready for bed one of the nights that he’s in his rooms alone, taking his time because there’s no rush, when he gets a call.

“Caitlin?” he answers when he sees who it is. “Is everything alright?”

“Can I come over?” she asks. “I mean, yes, everything’s alright, I just… Can I come over?”

He doesn’t have to think about it. “Of course.”

There’s a knock at his door almost immediately, and Harry glances at his phone to make sure Caitlin is still on the line before he answers the door.

She is, but she’s also standing outside his door.

“Snow?”

She looks like she’s mustering up strength for something, but she doesn’t seem injured or particularly distressed, so he steps back, gesturing for her to come in, and he ends the call on his phone. He watches her, waiting for her to speak.

“What do you think about doing this every night?” she finally says, nearly tripping over the words in her rush to get them out. “Because I don’t know about you, but I sleep so much better here with you than I do at home alone, and it just makes more sense to stay.” She pauses for too short a time for him to respond. “I mean, only if you feel the same. If you don’t, then pretend I didn’t say anything, but it really seems like you sleep better the nights I stay over, and—”

“Caitlin,” he stops her. “The only reason I haven’t asked you to stay every night is that I didn’t want to impose.”

“Oh.” She’s watching him as they each realize they want the same thing, and he’s not sure whether it’s the release of tension or something else, but suddenly they’re both chuckling, and he’s struck with the irrational urge to wrap her into a hug.

He ignores it, of course, as he does anything else irrational, like Cisco’s taste in movies.

It’s routine by now, getting ready for and into bed, and it’s only a few minutes before they’re both comfortable. Something makes him reach out toward the center of the bed, and he finds her hand waiting. He takes it for the first time since that first night (and he’s sure now it wasn’t a dream; her hand feels much too familiar), and gives silent thanks.

As he’s gotten used to, his last thoughts are of her. It makes sense, after all; she’s right there. The affection makes sense, too; they’re close, both in their friendship and in physical proximity.

The next day, Harry makes room in his closet so that she doesn’t have to go home between sleep and work every day if she doesn’t want to.

It’s only practical.

***

It gets harder to pretend he's his realistic ( _not_ pessimistic, thank you, Barry), mildly cranky self once he’s sleeping well every night. He and Caitlin don’t stay up so late anymore, neither of them trying to delay the inevitable, and he’s not actually entirely sure he’s slept so well regularly in his life.

Caitlin doesn’t only talk a lot when she’s nervous, he’s learned; she talks a lot more than usual when she’s tired and comfortable, too, and when they go to bed early enough, their conversations can last hours without interruptions, the topics ranging from world peace to sleepwear.

“What do you sleep in when you’re alone?” he finally asks one night, shifting the conversation only slightly from their discussion of the pajamas TV characters wear. “You can’t spend every night in gym clothes, can you?”

She’s close enough to the center of the bed that he can feel her shrug. “They’re no less comfortable than what I do wear.”

“You can bring whatever you want, you know,” he says. She’s moved several dresses into his closet, and he hopes she believes him when he says she can store just about anything there.

“I’m not sure what I sleep in is appropriate,” she responds, “not for the type of sleeping together we do.”

His mind short circuits for a moment, overloaded with various, too-distracting mental images of what sorts of things might fit that description. And if a fraction of his mind focuses instead on what it might be like to sleep together in a different way, well...

He’s able to dismiss it quickly enough. She’s his friend, maybe his best friend at this point, and he’s not going to risk this over some errant lewd thoughts. Not even vivid and ridiculously appealing ones.

“I don’t sleep naked or anything,” Caitlin says, filling the silence. “But I sleep in those silky little nighties that aren’t really fit for platonic company.”

His mouth is dry, and he feels like he should really know why he’s struggling so much with this, feels like if he lets himself think about, he’ll figure it out almost immediately, and for some reason, that path seems utterly overwhelming.

“I wear my boxers,” he says instead of thinking, immediately regretting it since there’s no logical follow up to this conversation that isn’t dangerous in some way. “I don’t typically wear those for platonic company, either,” he adds, not sure whether he’s making it better or worse.

Caitlin looks like she’s considering something, and he’s focusing on keeping his breath even, something made suddenly very difficult by the impatient rap on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?” comes Cisco’s voice from just outside his main door, and Harry and Caitlin both freeze.

“Maybe if I don’t answer, he’ll go away,” Harry whispers.

His theory is immediately disproven when he hears his door open, something Cisco’s only ever done in the direst of circumstances.

“Harry? Harry, I’m coming in, it’s an emergency.” Cisco’s voice gets closer. “You’d better be dressed.”

He continues talking, but Harry’s trying to communicate silently with Caitlin, trying to figure out whether to hide or to lock the bedroom door, and just as Harry realizes that he could’ve probably just lied and shouted that he _isn’t_ dressed, the door opens, and there’s Cisco.

“We’ve got this meta, and Barry—” Cisco stops short and stares. “Caitlin? What are you doing in Harry’s bed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to get the next chapter up asap!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry hopes Cisco can keep his mouth shut about Harry and Caitlin's sleeping situation. Of course, since Cisco was on the comms with the whole team, the beans have already been spilled. Now, how will they convince the rest of Team Flash that they’re not actually together? Should they even bother trying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During tropical weather is a great time to finally find time and motivation to write, right? It’s passed through now, but we’re without internet. Hooray for mobile hotspots so I can post what I wrote last night!
> 
> This chapter sort of skirts the line between teen and adult, but I’m pretty sure it’ll end up adult, so I’m changing the rating to reflect that. Anyway, I hope you’re enjoying this! I adore every review, even when I don’t get to them right away. Every one makes me smile :)

_“We’ve got this meta, and Barry—” Cisco stops short and stares. “Caitlin? What are you doing in Harry’s bed?”_

“You mentioned an emergency?” Harry says, his brain finally kicking into gear. He gets out of bed and snags a pair of actual pants instead of the pajamas he’s been wearing. He tosses Caitlin a dress, a loose, flowy one she doesn’t wear often and can slip on over what she’s wearing.

Cisco stares, open-mouthed, at the two of them, then tries to peer around Harry into the closet when the younger man finally speaks again. “Yeah, uh… Yeah.” He jumps, holding a hand to his ear in a familiar movement that makes Harry’s heart sink. “I don’t know, Barry. Give me a sec.” Cisco refocuses on Harry. “Phones are down all over town, intermittent at best. That’s why I didn’t call. There’s a meta messing with them, and the police radios, too. There’s stuff going on all around Central City, and we can’t figure out whether it’s connected, and the police can’t communicate with each other…”

Harry nods. “Let me put these on and I’ll be right there.”

Cisco and Caitlin leave, and Harry takes a breath before quickly changing his pants. He joins the others in the cortex while they’re still getting situated in front of Cisco’s monitors.

“Are we talking about this?” Cisco asks as Harry reaches them, gesturing between Harry and Caitlin. “We’re not talking about this, are we?”

“Knew you were smart,” Harry mutters, feigning injury when Caitlin elbows him. “What’ve we got? How are our communications?”

“Do you mean who heard me say you and Caitlin were sleeping together?” Cisco backtracks at Harry’s glare. “Okay, I’ll let it drop for now. For the record, Barry and Wally both heard me. Oh, and Joe, because we got him a comms device.” Harry sneaks a glance at Caitlin, who’s watching Harry. Cisco takes a breath and looks at the monitors. “Alright, so Barry and Wally are both out trying to put out fires. Not literal fires, mostly. It’s all small stuff, like minor robberies, muggings… It’s hard to tell what’s planned and what’s just people taking advantage because the cops can’t do much right now.”

“And how are we getting this information?” Harry asks. “What’s still working?”

“We’ve basically just got our comms, and Barry and Wally on foot.” Cisco looks at Caitlin. “If you’re up for it, I was thinking me and you could get out there, too, get more feet on the ground, and Harry could hold down the fort.” Caitlin nods, and Cisco looks back at Harry. “Everything else we know so far is pulled up on this monitor.”

“Alright,” says Harry, “I’ll look at this, just…” He looks at Caitlin. “Be safe.”

“We will,” Cisco agrees, while Caitlin smiles and nods.

Harry lets himself watch them leave, then turns to the information Cisco left him with. The meta sent out a video broadcast claiming responsibility before everything went down, and Harry starts mining it for clues, listening as the team bounces ideas off him in between minor skirmishes. Finally, after much longer than it seems it should take even with everything slowed by the faulty communications processes, they manage to catch Frequency, as Cisco dubs him. The troublesome meta was working with a group of rogues, who they’ll have to watch out for later, but Frequency, at least, along with his annoying ability, is behind bars.

And then the team gathers back at STAR Labs.

Harry doesn’t quite smile when he sees everyone back in one piece, but he does feel the tension drain from him. Caitlin catches his eye, and she smiles at him, small and soft, and alright, maybe then he smiles. It would be rude not to return the expression, after all, and he doesn’t have any reason to be rude right now. It’s not like he’s _always_ rude, especially not to Caitlin.

“So, are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room, here?”

Cisco, on the other hand, he feels little guilt in being rude to; Cisco’s rude right back. It’s sort of their thing. He’d take a bullet for the other man. For anyone on the team, really.

Not that he has to admit that, especially when all of them are looking to Harry for answers regarding something he doesn’t particularly wish to discuss.

“What’s that?” Harry asks aloud, crossing his arms.

Iris is the one to answer, looking at him like… Like he’s an adorable puppy. “I think he means catching you and Caitlin sleeping together. Why didn’t you two just tell us you were together?”

“We’re not,” Harry retorts. “Two people can share a bed without being… involved.”

Cisco snorts disbelievingly, and Barry looks skeptical. Wally looks amused, and Iris is still looking at Harry like he’s being _cute._ Caitlin crosses the room to stand beside Harry, and he looks at her, hoping for some help in setting the team straight.

“It’s true,” Caitlin says, looking out at the team earnestly. Harry pinches the bridge of his nose as she continues, in the tone she uses when she’s either nervous or lying. “We’re just friends who sleep together.”

Iris looks skeptical but like she’s trying not to insult them. “You mean, like you were too tired to get home and you crashed here?”

“Yes,” Harry says, relieved at an explanation.

“Dude,” Cisco challenges, “then why’s Caitlin keeping her clothes in your closet?”

Harry opens his mouth to dispute their assumptions again, but he stops when Caitlin touches his arm. He looks at her instead, and she’s smiling at him with her eyes when she gives him a little shrug. Maybe they should go along with it, he thinks she’s saying, and sure, maybe that’s the easier route, but—

“You could’ve just told us,” Barry says, looking around at the rest of the team for confirmation. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you two were kind of obvious.”

“How’s that now?” Harry asks.

“Well you’re kinda always together,” Wally answers. “You’re next to each other when we’re here, and I know you and Caitlin spend hours in that lab.”

“And you finish each other’s sentences,” supplies Barry.

“And then there’s the way you look at each other,” Iris finishes, looking up at Barry without even seeming to think about it. Barry looks back at her, and it’s like the two of them soften.

Harry sighs and looks at Caitlin again. She doesn’t look bothered, more like resigned and amused, and he lets his ire fade.

“There’s no way we can convince you we’re not together, is there?” he asks, and the entire team chimes in with their various _nopes,_ and he decides to let it go. If Caitlin can deal with it, so can he. And if he has to be mistaken as being in a relationship with someone, it’s not like she’s exactly his last choice.

***

Harry and Caitlin don’t really talk about it, but neither do they stop sharing a bed every night. The team teases them, nicely (but annoyingly) enough, trying to get them to admit they’re together, but as if they’re just looking for confirmation that the sky is blue.

They _know_ Harry and Caitlin are together, but they want to hear it.

Even Joe has joined in on it, with his own brand of saying one thing while clearly implying another, a knowing “uh huh” any time Harry tries to dispute it, to the one other person here who’s supposed to be a real grown up.

One night, he has more trouble shaking it than usual, and it’s on his mind when he and Caitlin are falling asleep. He thinks about what everyone’s been saying, about the fact that he and Caitlin really haven’t been able to come up with a single plausible excuse for sharing a bed every night. Sure, they haven’t tried laying _everything_ out on the line, but he doesn’t think it would actually help so much as expose…

He’s really not sure anymore what he’s worried about.

Regardless, the team’s words feel like they’re saturating him, and even though he knows they aren’t right, knows there’s never been anything between himself and Caitlin that’s strictly romantic, his last waking thought is of the fact that he and Caitlin really do _look_ like they’re together.

Really, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he and Caitlin end up curling together in their sleep, only it’s never happened before.

It takes a moment after he wakes up for him to realize what’s happened, that he’s curled around Caitlin, a possessive arm around her waist, and she’s tucked back against him, her head pillowed on his arm. He’s not sure how he slept through the change in position, especially since his arm is numb and her hair is tickling his nose.

But he has absolutely no desire to move.

She feels soft and warm against him, though he knows her skin is technically cooler than his own. She smells clean, with the faintest traces of a perfume he never quite realized he associates with her, something sweet and sharp. He pulls her closer before he’s fully awake, closing his eyes when she makes a contented sound. He savors the feel of her back against his chest, their legs alongside each other, their…

Okay, he should probably let go of her before she wakes up and realizes exactly what he’s pressing against her behind. It may be a normal, biological response, able to happen with or without another person in the bed with him, but he still figures she’d rather not wake to his morning erection.

Carefully, slowly, he pulls away, managing to transfer her to the pillow and get out of bed without waking her. It’s a Saturday and he was planning to sleep in, but he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to fall back to sleep this morning.

He gets in the shower, trying to let the warm water wash away… He’s not even sure. What he is sure of, though, is that he probably can’t keep calling them strictly platonic if they sleep together like _that_ anymore. She felt perfect against him, and he’s having an impossible time keeping his mind from wandering to what it would’ve been like to wake up that way under other circumstances.

He’s always been a fan of morning sex.

Harry leans against the wall, struggling. He shouldn’t be thinking about his friend under these conditions. It doesn’t seem right, feels like he’s objectifying her even though he’s a fan of every part of her, physical and otherwise. He decides to stop thinking about this. It’s worked well enough for him so far, simple refusal to let his mind wander.

Not today, though.

He’s left with two options, he figures: give into his body’s wishes, or turn the water cold enough to talk his body out of it. After a moment, he reaches for the controls.

He makes the water hotter.

***

He doesn’t think about her that morning while he takes care of himself, but it still feels like something has shifted, because he can’t ignore the fact that at least part of him seems interested in Caitlin in ways that he decidedly does not want the rest of his friends. His body, at minimum, was interested, long after he could blame it on side-effects of sleep.

Harry still avoids following that train of thought because… She’s never expressed interest in that way, and because he doesn’t want to shift the status quo. What they have is good. It’s damned near perfect, even, and he’s an adult. He’s not about to ruin one of his most valued friendships just because it’s been a long time since he’s gotten laid.

Only, where before it was like he could avoid thinking of her that way (at least consciously, though looking back, he didn’t do half as well as he thought), now he has to take a moment to shift his thoughts away from any potential physical interactions, and it makes him unfortunately aware of it.

It’s not like his mind suddenly lives in the gutter. He’s not always fighting inappropriate thoughts.

Just a lot more often than he thinks he should.

He’s working on getting himself back under control, getting back to how he was before everything…

Well. Okay, technically, nothing’s changed. They’re still the same as they’ve been for months now, still friends who talk in bed until they fall asleep.

But it feels different.

And maybe that’s why it shakes them both, dealing with a brief appearance from a speedster who tries to kidnap Iris. He fails, but for a couple hours, it feels far too much like they’re dealing with Zolomon again.

They’re quiet that night before sleep, and he dreams, dreams mixed with memory that make it feel far too real. He dreams that he’s lost Jesse, that he’s lost Caitlin, that he’s turned the rest of Team Flash against him. When Zolomon laughs as he moves to hurt all of them before Harry can so much as blink, Harry wakes with a shout.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Caitlin says, her voice calm. She reaches and puts a hand on his chest, and he takes it without thinking, trying to get his breathing back under control. “You’re just dreaming.”

“It was like Zolomon was back,” he says. She squeezes his hand, and he turns his head toward her in the dark. “How do you… You went through so much. How are you okay?”

“I’m not always okay,” she says. “It took me a while. I hid it, mostly, at least during the day, but it came out at night until… Until I started sleeping here.”

He doesn’t let himself overthink it like he’s been doing with so much lately. Instead, he just tugs her closer, accepting the comfort she’s offering and hoping to offer some of his own.

***

After that, cuddling is just a thing that happens between them sometimes. It doesn’t make things any harder, and both of them breathe easier when they hold each other close.

***

One night, after Caitlin kicks some serious butt in the field (saving a meta for a change, rather than fighting one), she’s curled into his side, talking like she does some nights, like she’s more awake than she was before she got in bed, and he’s smiling up at the ceiling as he listens.

And then he stops breathing for a moment as all of the pieces abruptly click into place.

She’s become his best friend, irreplaceable and invaluable. They’re sleeping together every night, cuddling frequently, sharing dreams and nightmares alike. He wants her physically, when he lets himself (and sometimes when he doesn’t). Half of his closet space is hers, and he can’t actually remember the last time she went home to her place. The team is right, after all; they’re already in a relationship, even if it doesn’t have everything that’s typically found in one.

More than all that, though, the thing that stops his breath in the first place, is the thought that comes to him along with an image of how she looked today, triumphant and proud and happy, and…

He is completely and utterly in love with Caitlin Snow, and he hasn’t the faintest idea when that happened.

He breathes, and Caitlin picks up his hand, playing with his fingers, and he knows he can’t just blurt out that he loves her, especially when he hasn’t taken a moment to sort through the thoughts himself, but he has to say something.

“You know the team is right and we’re basically in a relationship, right?” he says. “We do all but the actual dates.” He doesn’t need to think about the few physical aspects they skip, not right now.

“Well,” Caitlin says lightly, “then maybe we should go out to dinner tomorrow, if we’re already in a relationship.”

Harry isn’t sure whether she means it in the same way he’d like her to, but then again, he didn’t realize he wanted their relationship to be a _relationship_ until about three minutes ago, so he’ll probably survive not being sure about her feelings for a little while.

For a genius, he decides, he can be awfully ignorant to the most obvious of things.

Like being in love with his best friend whom he’s basically living with. How is this his life?

He has to swallow before he can answer. “It’s a date,” he says.

“Good,” she says, sounding satisfied.

Hopefully they’re on the same page with it, but he hopes the date will clarify that for him. It won’t change how he feels if she doesn’t reciprocate, but he’d rather have her as a friend than not at all, and he won’t risk what they have.

He’s really not sure how he got to this point. It’s possible it had something to do with the genius idea of sharing a bed platonically. But really, how was he to know he’d end up here?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Caitlin decide to go on a date. It’s not actually a date, though. It’s just two people who are sleeping together, going out for dinner and a walk through a park and watching the sunset and… Who are they kidding, again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever and always thanks to ClaudiaRain.

 

It’s not really his fault the team finds out about their date.

Well, okay, it’s mostly his fault. Harry’s thinking about their dinner later that night, trying to decide on a place he and Caitlin will both like, somewhere fancy enough for a date but casual enough as to not be awkward if he’s read things wrong. He’s got it narrowed down to two possibilities to propose as options. So when Cisco speaks, Harry’s focused on his upcoming date, not on hiding it.

“I was thinking we could watch that movie tonight, Harry,” Cisco says as he takes a break in tapping on his keyboard, “that one Earth-2 did, the second Firefly movie.”

“Can’t tonight,” Harry says without pausing in the calculations he’s drawing on the board.

“Why not?” Cisco asks. “We’re just about done here, and you and Caitlin both wrapped up your latest research projects last week, didn’t you?”

“I might, on occasion,” Harry responds, “have a life outside of the labs.”

“You never have before,” Cisco retorts.

Harry stops to glare at Cisco. That’s when he notices that Barry, Caitlin, and Wally are all watching their exchange with far too much interest.

“I have plans,” Harry says, defensive. “I can have plans.” He looks at Caitlin, who smiles at him in that way she has, the one that makes it impossible to stay truly upset. He can never, never let the rest of Team Flash discover exactly how far gone he is.

“Ohhh.” Cisco has a note of understanding in his voice as he looks between Harry and Caitlin, and Harry sighs. “You two have a date, don’t you? Why didn’t you just say?”

“We—” Harry stops, looking at Caitlin, who shrugs a shoulder. “Fine. Yes, Cisco, we have a date.”

“Wait,” Cisco starts, excited, “does this mean the two of you aren’t doing that thing anymore where you sort of pretend not to be together? Because as fun as that was and all, you’re just way too obvious to pull it off.”

“It’s not like we’re making out in the Cortex,” Harry snaps.

“Yeah,” Wally chimes in, “but you don’t have to. Those looks are worse than the ones between Barry and Iris.”

“I don’t know about _worse,_ ” Barry supplies before thinking it through. “Wait, I mean, yeah, you’re way sappier than us, totally…”

Harry looks at Caitlin, exasperated. “I can really feel the love here,” he says.

“Well, yeah,” says Cisco. “That’s kinda our point.”

So yes, he supposes it’s at least partially his fault that the team finds out about their date.

***

They decide on a nice diner, one where they could dress up a little without standing out, but casual jeans and a t-shirt are fine, too.

Not that he’s wearing casual jeans and a t-shirt. Honestly, getting ready for the dinner is the strangest part of this thing so far. Caitlin’s back at her apartment for the first time in at least a week, and Harry’s getting ready in his quiet room. He settles on an outfit not that far from his normal attire, wears a black button-up shirt and dark jeans that could almost pass for slacks. His glasses finish out the look.

Getting dressed isn’t the weird part.

The weird part is that while he’s getting ready, he’s as nervous as he was on his first date as a teenager.

And, alright, it’s been a very long time since he’s had a first date with anyone. He can’t even remember his last date. He’s found companionship a few times since his wife, but dating?

And this is a date. It might turn out that it’s a date between two people who are very close but will never go beyond platonic friends who cuddle (it’s a thing, really), but it’s still a date.

Maybe it’s not so strange to be nervous, he decides as he pulls a car to a stop in front of Caitlin’s apartment a few minutes later. Between his lack of recent experience and his inadvisably high hopes, it feels like there are a lot of ways this could go wrong.

He takes a breath before knocking on her door.

“Come in,” Caitlin calls. He obeys, closing the door behind him and looking around. “I’ll be right out,” she says from a back room.

“I could’ve been anyone,” Harry says absently. He knows Caitlin can take care of herself, and it keeps him from being actually upset at the unlocked door. “You might’ve invited anybody in and told them where you were.”

“Because someone with ill intent would wait for an invitation. You’re right.” There’s a pause. “Unless it was a vampire, but then there would just be a vampire-shaped popsicle.”

“You’re right, of course,” he allows, trailing a finger over her counters. There’s a thick layer of dust, and Harry knows Caitlin tends to be meticulous about that when she’s home. Her dishes are all clean and put away, the pictures she used to keep on her refrigerator are at home on his at STAR Labs, and her furniture doesn’t look like it’s been recently used.

If he had any remaining doubts that Caitlin’s basically moved in with him, they’re gone now.

“We should ask Cisco whether vampires can turn into popsicles,” she says, interrupting his musing as she exits the bathroom. “Okay, ready.” When Harry stares silently for several seconds, Caitlin looks down at herself. “Do I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he says, and she flushes ever-so-slightly. She’s not wearing anything that out of the ordinary, but there’s something about the black dress and the way she’s looking at him that makes his breath catch. Harry shakes himself out of his stupor. “Shall we?” he asks, gesturing toward the door.

She smiles. “We shall.”

***

In the car, they discuss their next lab project, a joint one with the two of them and Cisco. Harry’s actually relatively excited about it, and it’s a good distraction from his nerves. By the time they’re seated in the diner, he feels almost like his normal self.

Almost.

It feels like a date. A real one, not a date-like dinner between friends. He keeps catching her eye, and she smiles every time, and he does the same. It’s comfort mixed with an undercurrent of something that feels like awareness, the very best combination of friendship and romance.

He thinks it’s somewhere around dessert that he decides he’s just going to act like it’s a romantic date for both of them. Then she offers a taste of her pudding, holding out her spoon for him to taste, and they both hold eye contact as he sucks the chocolatey concoction off the utensil.

It’s inordinately difficult to swallow with her looking at him like that, but he manages, and he thinks he even mumbles complimentary words about the dessert.

And then they’re leaving, and somehow Harry’s hand is tangled with Caitlin’s. He pauses rather than heading toward the car.

“Do you want to take a walk with me?” He nods toward the park.

“Sure,” she answers, and they cross the street. The sun is out late this time of year, only just setting as they walk through the greenery. “Let’s sit,” she suggests, and they get comfortable on a park bench without letting go of each other. Caitlin leans against him, her head on his shoulder.

“You know,” says Harry, “we would never hear the end of it if the team saw us like this.”

“They think we do this anyway.” There’s laughter in Caitlin’s voice.

“Are you telling me, Snow,” he asks, adopting a scandalized look, “that the team thinks I like to _snuggle?_ ”

“They do think that,” Caitlin answers. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Harry, but nobody thinks you’re as cranky as you pretend to be.” She’s quiet for a second. “You might’ve pulled it off if we’d never seen you with Jesse, but she completely ruins your ‘cantankerous old man’ facade.”

“Now you tell me,” he grumbles, shifting so he can take her hand with his free one, wrapping the one closer to her around her shoulders. “Thanks a lot.”

“Well, I should probably warn you then,” she continues, “you’re not nearly as cranky around me as I think you want them to see.”

“I’ll have to remedy that,” he says, “just as soon as I can figure out how.”

They fall silent as they watch the rest of the sunset.

***

They don’t talk about where they’re going after the date. Why would they? They’ve been sharing a bed for months now. They go home (he’s not going to stop to examine why it’s “home” now instead of “his rooms” or “his apartment,” or why Caitlin is so tied into the difference; he knows what he’ll find there).

They go home, and they get ready separately, and they climb into bed, and Harry…

Harry stays mostly on his side of the bed and stares up at the ceiling in the dark room. The evening together was perfect. There’s almost nothing he would have changed about the night.

Nothing about the date, anyway. Now he’s feeling a little lost, he thinks. She’s right here, so close, the woman he loves, and he still didn’t end up with a definitive answer.

The evidence, though, does at least point heavily in his favor. Caitlin acted like it was a real date, too, and there was the thing with dessert, and their time in the park, and the fact that she didn’t let go of his hand until they were home…

But he’s going to feel like a complete and utter ass if he misread the situation. And if it pushes her away, he doesn’t think he can deal with it. Being with her is so close to being everything he ever wanted (Jesse deciding to come home would be icing on the cake), and it doesn’t matter whether they’re together as friends or as lovers.

Except that it does matter. It matters because he’s pretty sure it’s going to get in the way if he keeps trying to hide his growing (already overwhelming) feelings. It matters because it doesn’t feel right thinking of her like this if he’s not a hundred percent certain she knows. It matters because as little as it would change between them in some ways, there _are_ things that could end up quite different.

Harry closes his eyes, then opens them before speaking. “You know, this is the first time I've regretted sharing a bed in the slightest.”

“Oh.” At the pain and confusion in her voice, he takes her hand immediately.

“That didn’t come out even close to right.” He can feel her relax even at that brief reassurance, before he continues on to an explanation. “I just meant… If I'd walked you back to your place tonight, I'd have kissed you goodnight.”

He holds his breath when she stills, waiting for her to say something, anything, waiting for her to shatter his hopes (he’ll be okay) (eventually), waiting for her to—

“Just because you didn’t walk me somewhere else doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me goodnight.”

It takes a moment to register, and then he rolls over, finding and cupping her cheek in the nearly non-existent light, stroking a thumb along a soft stretch of skin. He leans down, and when his nose brushes against hers, she tilts her face up, and their lips meet.

Alright, so their bed sharing probably isn’t platonic in the slightest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, basically, if you don’t want smut, probably consider that the happy ending. Next chapter is likely to be mostly adult, with maybe a team scene tossed in at the end.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that when you accidentally fall in love with your best friend, and then she basically asks you to kiss her, things get a bit… steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took way too long. Life and all that. 
> 
> This chapter has some talk, some smut, and some cuteness to wrap things up.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Ever and always, thanks and love to ClaudiaRain. Thanks also to mountaingirlheidi for reading this over.

He hasn’t let himself really think about what it would be like, kissing Caitlin. If he had, though, if he’d let himself picture this, he doesn’t think his imagination would’ve come even close.

Their lips fit together, tasting, testing, teasing. She’s pulling him close against her, arching up into his touch despite all the clothing still between them. They’re close enough that he can smell the lingering traces of her perfume, and Harry’s heart is racing, his head spinning. His hand slides along her side, and she makes an encouraging noise before slowing suddenly.

“Harry, wait,” she says, sounding as breathless as he feels, and he stops (has already stopped before she’s spoken) and pulls back. She doesn’t let him go far, grabbing his shirt and keeping him within easy kissing distance. “I just… I want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

“Okay.” His voice is a bit rough, and he clears his throat and tries again. “Alright.” He tries to gauge what she’s trying to say based on her expression, but it’s too dark. “Do you mind if I turn on the lamp?”

“That’s a good idea,” she says, and something in the tone of her voice makes him wonder whether she wants the light for what might come _after_ the talking.

“You have to let go of me before I can reach,” he says, relaxed enough now to be amused.

“Oh.” She lets go with a huff of laughter, and he shifts just far enough to hit the switch, blinking for a moment before he turns back to Caitlin, whose hair is uncharacteristically rumpled and who is looking at him like…

Well. It makes it easier to say what he needs to, seeing her watch him with wide pupils under hooded lids, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

He takes a breath. “Cards on the table?” At her nod, he continues. “You want to know whether we’re on the same page. The page I’m on…” He lets his jaw clench for only a moment. It’s _Caitlin,_ and he knows her, knows that look, knows suddenly and completely that his insecurities and doubts about her affections have been all in his mind. “I’m in love with you, Caitlin. I don’t want anything to change, except maybe…” He lets his eyes trail along what he can see of her, and there’s a hint of pink in her cheeks when she raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish.

May as well say this right.

“I don’t want to be without you,” he says. “Having you with me every night has been amazing, and working with you is always a delight. You’re my favorite person to talk to, and I’d be happy to just talk to you all night. Unless we’re on the same page, back where we were with that kiss.” There’s nothing at all discouraging in her gaze. “In which case, I’ve got a few other things in mind that might keep us otherwise occupied.”

“Before, after, or instead of the talking?” she asks, letting her eyes trace his body pointedly, mimicking his look from a minute earlier.

“Lady’s preference,” he manages.

Caitlin reaches out, taking hold of his shirt again but watching him rather than pulling him close. “You love me,” she says, the teasing tone dropping in favor of a serious one.

Harry matches her new tone. “I do.”

“I love you, too. And we’re definitely on the same page.” Now she does pull him closer, and he pushes forward, pressing their lips together again.

There’s more intent this time, hunger wrapped with the knowledge that she loves him. She isn’t just okay with the fact that he’s fallen for her; she returns his feelings. She deepens the kiss and pulls at him insistently until he’s on top of her, and she presses up against him.

Their actions grow frantic from there, clothing removed by whomever can reach it best, until there’s nothing left between them.

And then it slows. They’re tangled together, and when they stop kissing long enough, their eyes meet, and he can no longer bring himself to rush this, because as much as he wants it, he wants _her_ more.

“Harry,” she whispers, sensing his change in mood and stroking his cheek. He leans into her touch, closing his eyes and taking a moment to think about what’s coming next, expecting (hoping) it will be everything they want and deserve. When he reopens his eyes, he’s determined.

It's not like Harry hasn't had sex before, obviously, but he generally figures that if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right. Doing it right means learning everything he can about it.

And right now, that means learning everything he can about Caitlin Snow.

It means learning that when he trails his hand up her thigh and dips his fingers just inside her, she gasps and presses into his touch.

It means learning that when he curves his fingers just so, she gives the most delightful moan, a low pitch that reverberates through his chest.

It means learning that Caitlin doesn't just talk a lot when nervous or tired; she talks during sex, too, anytime her mouth isn’t occupied with his.

“I wondered what this would be like,” she says between heavy breaths, her hand working its way down his back and over to his hip, clutching for a moment. “Thought you might be good at it.” Her breath hitches when he lets his thumb brush against her clit. “Your hands are really kind of unfair.”

He pulls back far enough to smirk at her. The expression is ruined, he’s sure, when he’s immediately distracted by how she looks like this, her eyes dark and trusting and wanting while his fingers are buried deep inside her. Her chest is rising and falling, heavier and faster than usual, deep inhalations in time with each firm stroke inside her, and her mouth pulls up at the corners.

“The human body is fascinating,” she pants as she trails a hand up from his hip to his shoulder, working it into the scant space between them so she can drag it along his chest and over his abdomen. When she wraps confident fingers around his erection, his study of her comes to a momentary halt. He closes his eyes again, letting his head drop, and he whispers her name against the skin of her neck, continues to slide his fingers and thumb how he’s already learned she likes. “So responsive to the right”—he feels her stomach contract as he increases the tempo of the circles against her clit—“the right stimuli. Harry… ”

She starts arching up against him at each stroke, speeding up her own movements to keep pace with his, and it has definitely been far too long since he's felt anything half this good, long enough that he’s forgotten what it feels like to have soft, firm fingers pumping him, and it takes everything he’s got to keep his focus on her, to press at just the right speed that her body finally goes tight, walls clenching around his fingers, to hold on as her free hand clutches at his shoulder.

He does his best to keep his breath even as she slows and relaxes, slowing his own movements as she comes down, and when she opens her eyes to look up at him, her gaze adoring and blissed out, he kisses her again until she stops him. When he looks at her, she grins, the smile almost mischievous, and moves their hands from between them, tilting so his erection slides through her wet folds.

“There are condoms in my drawer,” she says, and it’s possible he’s a touch too eager when he moves to retrieve one, but judging by her throaty laugh, she doesn’t mind. She sits up when he’s no longer over her, and she takes over, putting the condom on him before pushing against his chest pointedly. He complies, and as soon as his head touches the pillows, she’s kissing him, straddling him, pressing against him. When his hands move to her hips, she lifts herself slightly, lining them up without breaking the kiss, then sinking down on him.

“Caitlin,” he breathes, and she straightens, her hands trailing over his chest as she starts moving up and down. It’s his turn to clutch at her, just enough presence of mind remaining that he doesn’t dig his fingers in too hard, even when she starts moving faster, tightening around him as encouragement spills from her lips between uneven breaths.

“This feels… so good… I… Yes, like that…”

He thrusts up, meeting her downward movement, and she leans forward, weight on her hands against his chest as she comes around him for the first time and pulls him over the edge. He continues thrusting until he’s spent, until she collapses against his chest.

Harry wraps his arms around her, savoring the moment before they’ll need to move.

“Snow,” he murmurs into her hair, “that was fantastic.”

Caitlin hums her agreement. “I just wish we’d started doing that months ago.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple. “We should clean up.” He hesitates. “Speaking of things we should’ve started doing a long time ago,” Harry says, “how do you feel about sharing a shower?”

“Seems efficient,” she says, propping herself up and leaning down for a kiss.

***

They make it to the shower before too much longer. It’s rather tame, really, talking interspersed with kissing, exploration and caresses without any real intent. They don’t bother with many clothes after they dry off, Caitlin in one of his old shirts (his softest undershirt), Harry in his boxers.

Caitlin stops before they reach his bed, looking at him thoughtfully, then peering out of the bedroom. “This seems like a good night for a dessert.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “We had one at the restaurant, remember?”

She looks back at him, lifting an eyebrow. “I think we earned a second one, don’t you?”

He gives into the smile. “I can’t argue with that logic. Lead the way.” Caitlin starts looking through the fridge and rummaging through the cupboards. There isn’t much in them since they’re more prone to eating out. “What are you looking for, exactly?”

“Something sweet,” she says. “Sweet and creamy, but not ice cream.”

Harry shuffles through his mental inventory. “We have everything we need to make whipped cream.”

“You make your own whipped cream?”

She sounds intrigued, scientific curiosity mixed with a hint of desire, and she’s leaning against the counter in nothing but his shirt, and the image is even better than he thought it would be, and…

Whipped cream. Ingredients. Harry is an adult and capable of not being side-tracked by sex.

“Tastes better, homemade,” he says, moving to retrieve the few things they’ll need, setting everything beside her before he stands in front of her, the counter still at her back. “Besides, it’s easy, if you know the trick to it.”

“There’s a trick to whipped cream?” she asks, tipping her face toward his, and he sneaks a kiss before he focuses back on his task.

Harry picks up the metal mixing bowl and the spoon. “The trick is, Snow, you gotta get everything cold before you start mixing.” He starts toward the freezer, but she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Let me?”

He hands her the instruments without hesitation, and she smiles at him before she turns her attention to the metal. Her eyes flash momentarily, and then a thin layer of frost creeps from her hands over the bowl and whisk. When she looks at him, a proud smile playing at her lips, her eyes are their normal color.

“That should be about perfect,” he says, taking the bowl and leaving her with the whisk. “I’ll pour, you stir,” he says. She complies, watching him carefully.

“No measuring tools?” she asks, voice light. “I’m shocked, Harry. I pegged you for a perfectionist. I’m rethinking our entire relationship now.”

“Ha, ha,” he laughs sarcastically before chuckling in earnest. “Cooking is part science, part art, Caitlin. You gotta be able to improvise.” He pauses. “Besides, I know exactly how much I’m pouring without having to measure, down to the gram.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re too good for measuring.”

“Whisk faster, use your wrist— Perfect.” He claims another kiss, then starts cleaning up before he finally responds. “And yes, I am good enough that I don’t need to measure, not in these quantities.”

“We’ll have to test that in the lab sometime.” The curiosity has crept back into Caitlin’s voice. He turns to watch her mix the cream as it stiffens, and he thinks the whipped cream probably won’t be even half as sweet as the picture she makes right now.

Harry prays to God that nobody on Team Flash ever learns how to read minds, because he’d never hear the end of it if someone caught him in such a sappy thought. As long as that is an unlikely eventuality, though, he figures he can relax while they enjoy each other and their dessert. And if the whipped cream ends up in a few places other than their mouths, well… It’s not like the shared shower isn’t something they wanted to repeat, anyway.

***

If he’d stopped to think about it, Harry would have theorized that one of two outcomes was likely to happen: either the team would take one look at Harry and Caitlin and know they were _together_ now, or the team wouldn’t notice anything had changed for a long time because they already assumed they were together.

What happens isn’t quite either of these.

Everyone is in the cortex the very next day, including Joe and Iris, who officially still have jobs elsewhere and don’t have super speed to pretend they still work at them. When Cisco gets a ping that alerts him to the portal preparing to open, Wally flashes away to greet their visitor. Since they really only get one visitor who bothers giving them a heads up, Harry’s at the lead as the rest of the team follows.

When he comes to a stop, Jesse is already giving Wally a hug while Wally spins her happily. Harry hides a smile at the sight, and Caitlin slips a hand into his. He looks over at her, and she smiles up at him, and any chance he has of hiding his happiness flies out the window.

“Dad!” Jesse sounds much too cheery, and a glance confirms she’s studying him and Caitlin happily. “Are you two—”

“Don’t even go there,” Cisco interrupts. “They like to pretend they’re not dating, even though they went on _an actual date_ last night, I mean…” He trails off, noticing their linked hands when he turns to gesture to Harry and Caitlin in exasperation. Cisco’s eyes narrow.

“You’re just messing with us, aren’t you,” Wally accuses, and Cisco crosses his arms. Barry, meanwhile, studies Harry’s face like he’s never seen it before, then turns to whisper to a grinning Iris.

Joe just shakes his head, shooting Harry and Caitlin a look Harry is familiar with, one that says, “I’d walk away, really I would, because I don’t care about high school gossip. Except I really want to know, so I’m not leaving.”

“We’re not messing with you,” Caitlin answers, letting go of Harry’s hand and putting her arm around his waist instead. He settles his around her shoulders.

Cisco still looks suspicious. “That’s exactly what you’d say if you _were_ messing with us.”

“Oh for the love of…” Harry mutters. “Do we have to _prove_ we’re together now?”

“Yes,” Barry and Iris chime together.

Harry turns to Caitlin, who pulls him down and kisses him soundly, thoroughly enough that he definitely pulls her closer before he remembers they have an audience.

An audience who’s staring at them, some in shock and others in delight.

“Okay.” Cisco’s the one who speaks first, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Okay, I believe you, and I take it back. I don’t want to see the PDA. You can go back to the lingering looks. They’re not as bad.”

“You really don’t think the looks are worse?” Wally challenges, and he and Cisco start back and forth, most of the team joining in on the debate while Jesse comes and hugs Harry and Caitlin, offering whispered congratulations (along with a plea to not make out in front of her ever again).

They’re pains in the ass, all of them. The whole team. He should trade them all in for new ones, ones who don’t care about each other and don’t butt into his personal life and don’t help push him to being with the woman he loves.

He should do that. But he won’t. Instead, he looks at the woman who’s left his side to throw herself into the argument, claiming confidently that the kissing is as _good_ as the looks she gives him, and besides, they can’t help how they look at each other.

Yeah.

Harry knows he’s lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t written smut in ages, so I hope that didn’t suck ;) I adore Harry and Caitlin and have more stories planned for them, but I’d like to get some other stuff wrapped up first. We’ll see whether that happens or not, but point is, I’ll write more Snowells before too long :)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!


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